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Byline: Betty Fussell
At five o'clock on November 1, 1949, we welcomed guests to our first cocktail party in the slum apartment we called home on Huntington Avenue, across from the Mechanics' Institute in Boston, just one year before Norman Parkinson took this photo of the new American housewife. Cocktail parties were why you got married, so you could join the couples club. If you were a couple, you were somebody; otherwise, not. For this occasion I had bought (I usually made my own clothes) a blue satin cocktail dress in Filene's Basement to introduce myself to my new husband's friends, mostly couples, at Harvard Graduate School. This was my coming-out party to ...